#if you saw me posting this earlier no u didn’t

[pierrot-dokki]

One day, in the Slytherin common room…

Who knew that a badly transfigured hair could look so stinkin cute

[fastboatsmojito]

🕸️𖤐 Promptober Day Six - Knife Kink 𖤐🕸️

| a/n; switched around a few days on the schedule because this has been marinating since September and driving me crazy <3

Promptober schedule here!

| cw; 18+ smut btc, please please be safe, this is fiction!!! Knife play obviously, only Halloween-y because of the weather, afab! Gn reader, degradation, Scott being mean and nasty, a little dacryphilia, a splash of hair pulling, size kink if you squint, slapping (once), he talks to you like a bad dog for a second my fault, no mention of condoms - b safe !! Matching each others FREAK

| wc; 1,666 <3

He’s doing it again, pulling the folding knife out of its meticulous place in his pocket and sliding it open in the seat next to you. He never used it unless he had to but you saw it often enough for it to make your head spin, and without fail anytime it was out your eyes were glued to it.

To his fingers gripping the handle with more care than was usual for him, it was hard to look away when that attentive, analytical side of him came out.

This time simply for the invisible-to-anyone-that-isn’t-a-clean-freak string attached to the hem of his shirt, cutting it off quick and clean as you stared, eyes locked on the silver tucked between his fingers.

He looked up at you as you dazed, low voice finally emerging you out of your brain.

“Why do you do that?” He asked simply, watching you blankly as you froze.

“Do what?” You weren’t completely sure what he was asking, blindly hoping that the way his hand slightly twitched around the knife in his grasp wasn’t a sign he could suddenly read your mind and every filthy thought encompassing it.

“Stare at me like that every time I use this.” He’s carefully pointing the blade at you now, eyes following it before landing back on your own. He doesn’t sound mad but he might as well be the way you’re shifting in your seat like he’s scolding you.

“I don’t-“ You shake your head, scrambling to find the words that just won’t come out, he’s being frustratingly direct and it’s only adding to the familiar ache you tend to feel around him.

“Don’t lie. Just answer the question.”

“I just, um-“ Your eyes moved to your hands as you spoke, the eye contact suddenly too intense to handle.

“I think it’s kinda hot- when you use it.” Your words were pressed against each other, coming out just above a whisper as you anxiously tapped your fingers against your thigh.

“Use…” You sighed as he pushed you to say exactly what you meant, your face heating up at his suggestive tone.

“Your knife.” You look up only after you say it, subconsciously pressing your thighs together as he examined your every reaction, pausing even the movement of his jaw to observe your own.

His hand still holding the knife paired with his stern voice and intense stare was quickly turning you into a puddle, and it wasn’t not obvious.

“Right.” He nodded simply, gauging your reaction. Everything seemingly frozen in time resumed, the stationary gum in his mouth back to keeping him focused, his fingers pushing the knife closed before shoving it back into his pocket.

For a second you were scared he thought it was gross, shamefully watching as he opened his car door to get out. Half expecting him to call you a fucking freak, and he usually would, but you figured he was either into it as much as you were or uncharacteristically sparing your feelings to use it against you later.

He sighed at your uncomforted expression and leaned over to unbuckle your seatbelt before getting out and walking over to open your door.

“Come on.” He tilted his head towards the motel rooms just behind him, reassuringly placing a hand on the back of your neck as he guided you into his room.

——

It wasn’t long before you were on the bed under him as he sat on his knees between your open legs, gasping when he flicked the knife open and rested it just under the hem of your underwear.

The quiet pattering of the rain against the windows and the lull of your shared heartbeats kept you just grounded enough to not slip all the way into your head.

Into the steady chill outside that was cut off by the door, and brought back in again through the cool blade lying on your skin. Into the comfort in knowing that you were safe even with the unavoidable threat of something so sharp against something so fragile.

It felt suffocating in the same way your head gets fuzzy when you go just a few seconds too long underwater, an agonizing instinct to pull yourself back up and a louder, sharper, sicker need to see how long you can stay under.

“I won’t hurt you on purpose but you have to be still, okay?” Your eyes were stuck on the smooth silver, humming when his other hand moved to the nape of your neck, pulling your hair just enough to bring your now tear-brimmed eyes back to him.

“I mean it. Don’t need you bleeding out all over the bed, got it?” You nodded until the hand still gripping your hair tightened.

“I got it, I trust you.” You both knew you meant it, you’d be scared if anyone else held your life in their hands like this but this is Scotty - a nickname he’d only ever let leave your mouth - he was always so precise and observant, you knew you had no real reason to be worried.

“I know.” The hand behind your head suddenly soothing, the dull side of the knife slowly dragging down your leg as he leaned in to kiss you. It was soft, sweet, everything you knew he wasn’t about to be and you basked in it, always savoring every second of sweetness he spared before giving you what you really wanted - what you needed.

You whined when he pulled away anyway, desperation falling over you as he took his time, hand behind your head moving down to your hip to keep you still as he moved the tip of the knife to your inner thigh.

You weren’t sure exactly what he was about to do but even in the low lit room you could see the faintest smile on his face. Every move he made felt calculated, like he’d planned every second of it in his head days before.

He gripped your waist tighter before he tipped the knife down so the width of it was just against the wet spot on the fabric between your legs, closely watching the way your mouth fell open at the sudden cold.

The silver gift you got for him - that he swore he wouldn’t wear out of the house - fell out from his black undershirt, glistening against his neck. Your hands moved from the bed either side of you to appreciate the jewelry you knew he’d look good in - he wasn’t always great at talking about how he felt but he knew just well enough how to show it.

He carefully brought the knife away from you and lightly trailed it all the way up your body, over every part of you it could reach, finally drawing over your collarbone before slowly creeping back down again.

You lost count of just how many times he’d done it - you couldn’t possibly be wetter and he couldn’t possibly care less - admiring the soft pleas falling from your mouth, knife-less hand now on the side of your face as his thumb wiped away the tears of frustration pouring out of you.

“Scott, please-“ You begged for what felt like the millionth time, he was clearly enjoying tantalizing you, sighing and pulling back and finally bringing his hands to drag the ruined fabric down and off of you.

You pouted when he closed the knife and set it down on the bed, shaking his head and pointing a finger at you when you moved to sit up.

“Stay.” He said firmly, bed creaking just so as he stood up to free himself from his pants, eyes focused on your own as you waited on him. He could do this for hours and he had, letting you whine and beg and cry for it first. He wouldn’t this time, noticeably impatient as he resumed his previous position over you.

Before you could ask - or more accurately beg, he sat down on the bed, head resting against the headboard before signaling for you to come up with two fingers. He promptly grabbed your hips so you were sitting on his lap before reaching for the closed knife once again.

Your bare cunt was situated on the bulge under you, your hands planted on your thighs. He wrapped the still-closed knife wielding hand around you to lift you up, lazily pulling his dick out with the other. It was irritating how easy it was for him, so casually showing off his strength when you were alone.

He covered himself in the slick dripping out of you, groaning when he swiftly sat you down on him, keeping you motionless over him with a hand at your waist.

He flipped open the knife with his other hand away from you, undeniably feeling you clench around him when he finally brought the cold blade up to your skin again. He had the perfect view in this position, enough control over where his hands were precisely placed to keep you safe even with a knife at your throat.

“I knew you were far from innocent, sweetheart, but this is really fucked up.” You barely heard it over the rain that was rapidly hitting the windows. Ignoring the filthily mocked nickname and filthier implication, you let go of the breath you’d been holding since you confessed your dirty little secret.

His sharp comment finally leaving his mouth and taking with it all of the worry running through you that, even while literally inside of you, he’d think less of you for it.

You were practically just cockwarming at this point, pawing at his chest to try and convince him to fucking move already. You knew he’d be moving your hips for you soon but you complained anyway.

Rolling your eyes and hastily circling your hips at his seeming lack of urgency, earning yourself a cautionarily soft slap on the cheek.

“You’re mean.” You cried, almost throwing your head back in protest before he held the blade under your chin to keep you steady in place.

“Careful. Thought I told you not to move. Be good and stay still for me so I don’t have to explain to everyone that you asked for this, yeah?”

<333

[heshemejoshi]

sketch. trying to figure out how to draw him in a way i like

[abigail]

ok i did it.. cut my hair . be nice… be honest but be nice aaaa

[awzominator]

Behold!! The Ninja Tribunal in all their fully rendered glory!!

Chikara was the hardest in terms of coloring so her colors are the most identical to the 03 designs. Hisomi on the other hand was the easiest and I will be chasing that high for the rest of my life! Anyway,, Kon is a low emergent bitch while Chikara is a high energy bitch. Jotu causes problems on purpose for everyone. Hisomi….it’s the quiet ones you gotta watch out for…

[habibisagi]

oliver can't be trusted under any circumstances but especially if you leave him alone in your room. the first time you finally let him into your room and tell him to sit there and not snoop around, naturally it's all he thinks about doing. contrary to what you think, though, he actually doesn't need to snoop around. you have one of the pillows you use to get off out on the bed right next to him — it smells like you and looks good enough for an angle he's learned you can cum with when with him. you make it so easy to know you even when you deny. if you ask him (you don’t. he just tells you) the pillow found him

[rylekayner]

More MoBear from the Jets Punk AU… this was not the plan

ft @stickypucky dealing with me having a break down

[eyelovveu]

if u saw me post this earlier no you didn’t because I remade it cuz the other version was so sloppy

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

okay so,,i got an ask but instead of saving it i posted it unfinished like a dumbass so i had to delete AUGHHH anon man i hope you’re still sticking around n tysm for the ask :((( if you saw this earlier you’re a hacker bc I deleted that AT LIGHTNING SPEED anyways hope yall enjoy <3

Fem reader (boobs), fluff, katsu n reader in their 20s, katsuki is nyasty and a big baby, nakedness and such, katsuki talks about boobies soo suggestive i think?? just to be safe :3

request : i saw this video on tiktok before and thought it was so cute! it was a girl pranking her boyfriend by telling him to leave the room so she could change and he was just so confused, was wondering if u could do that with bkg 🥹 <33

right now, katsuki bakugo is about 99% convinced that there's a stranger in his house.

that, or you're mad at him.

"what ?" he asks again for what he knows is once too many, because you giggle. he feels your hand press against his chest, keeping him from following you into your bedroom. you're all smiles.

"i said, i'm changing."

“..so ?”

"so," you copy, making your voice gruff and nasally in a way that's making his nose scrunch. "you. wait outside." you dig your finger into his firm chest to accentuate your point, talking slowly like he's a dog. katsuki's eyebrows furrow harder.

clearly, you take him for a joke.

"you know i've already seen you naked before, right?"

you splutter at his bluntness and usually it'd make him smirk to see the effect he has on you. You cross your arms over your chest that you're trying to keep him from seeing for some reason. "yes, i know that, thanks for reminding me."

without missing a beat, he grabs both of your arms and pulls them apart, pulling a gasp from you. he's always had this weird trigger with crossed arms. he pulls you closer to him until you're firm to his chest and leans forward.

"so, there's nothin' you gotta hide from me." his voice his gravelly the lower he speaks, half lidded eyes looking you up and down, you do your best not to look too bothered.

" 'm not hiding anything, promise." you wiggle your hands out of his grip to lift them up in surrender. katsuki grumbles, you smirk "i just don't want you following me everywhere."

he leans back like you'd hit him, like you'd popped him straight on his mouth, eyes wide and mouth agape "what the-so what i can't walk around in my own damn house?!"

"and you always happen to be walking where i'm going ? conveniently ?" you cross your arms again, hobbling a bit away from your boyfriend so he couldn't pull the stunt from a few seconds ago.

katsuki, now that you’re out of reach, copies you and throws his beefy arms over each other. “i dunno if you noticed, but this place isn’t that fuckin’ huge. everywhere leads to the same place.” he squints when you giggle with a roll of your eyes.

“uhuh, that’s why you somehow end up in the bathroom just watching me. it’s all connected.” you sass, and you managed to dodge katsuki’s fingers attempting to wedge themselves into your sides with a squeal. you grip at the door in warning.

“i’m slamming this in your face !” you warn, pulling the door open and back to taunt him. he stares at you for a few more seconds before he scoffs, rolls his eyes, and groans dramatically . his arms flop to accentuate how much your denial irritates him.

“fine. since you fuckin’ hate being with me so bad, don’t even know why yer ass even moved in then..” you giggle at his not so quiet mutterings, grabbing his arm you pull him toward you

“i was joking, big baby, you can come in.”

katsuki blinks at you, eyebrows furrowed. then his head drops and he shakes it, hair tussling around as he sighs loudly. you laugh and when he’s finally past the door, he pinches you.

“fuckin’ dumbass, thought you grew a third tit an’ didn’t want me to see or something.”

you spin around, smacking his arms causing him to cackle meanly at you.

“you’re such a child.” you huff, “i shouldn’t have let you in here.” you mutter, kicking off your pants. katsuki snickers behind you, you can practically sense he’s about to say something stupid.

“aw, ‘m flattered baby. ya want me to see your third tittie ?” katsuki swiftly dodges the sweatpants you’d launched at him, continuing to laugh. goddamn pro hero reflexes.

[mooooonnnzz]

I saw your earlier post on Platonic fics and Im a sucker for them so here u go : father figure stanford headcannons maybe takes place after he comes back from the portal, reader is an adventurous spirit that works at the shack and maybe secretly helped stan get his brother back? Idk im just throwing things here lol

You Know I Love You Still

Stanford x daughter!reader

💗 stanford dad hc!!

💗 i literally saw the request it and started writing and got a lil carried away 😭 its like half story half hc? if that makes sense

💗 requests r so open rn! i def dont have any fav requests… (anything platonic or familial will be the first ones i write i LOVE those types of requests)

💗 the age of the reader is young like 16/17? ik that lowkey contradicts with the time line but wtv STANFORD DAD HC!!

💗 it’s a little bit of everything? like it’s not only just reader and stanford, the twins r also included in some scenarios and also stan

💗 a big happy family 😭

💗 fem reader gulp i completely didnt realize until i was done that i used she/her when referring to the reader

💗 next fic will use gender neutral pronouns I SWUEAR!!

💗2k words

💗 i apologize for rhe misspell and mistakes i didnt catch in advance

Working together with your Uncle Stan to build the portal to bring your dad back to the right dimension was tiresome. Nights were sleepless and many of them were spent in the underground lab, where you and Stan did everything possible to assemble the portal. Trying to keep such a secret away from the twins and Soos was unexpectedly hard. The knowledge of hiding someone so vital to you and to your Uncle Stan was weighing down on you and him. Then came the day where his awaited arrival was promised. You could barely sleep that night. You thought of so many different possibilities and scenarios of how you would greet him. Would he remember you? Did he ever miss you? Does he even love you?!

The next day came in like a tornado and before you knew it, you were protectively standing in front of the button; trying your absolute hardest to prevent the twins from pressing the button.

“Why do you guys want to stop the portal so badly!” You yelled over the loud swirling wind that emitted from the portal. “Because it’s dangerous!” Dipper retorted, using his arm to shield him from the debris whizzing past him. “G-Grunkle Stan isn’t who he says he is!” Dipper said, stepping closer to you.

“Whatever you guys saw or heard isn’t what you think it is! Please, you need to believe me.” You begged, your eyes brimming with tears. You’ve worked so hard to get this portal up and running and you weren’t going to let Dipper or anyone stop you from being able to see your dad.

Soos came up from behind and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry, dude.” He picked you up and took you away from the button. “Soos, no!” You thrashed around his hold. You pound your fists against his arms, hoping it’ll loosen his grip on you but nothing you did worked. No matter how much you begged and fought against him, he didn’t budge. He just held you closer to him, muttering ‘I’m Sorry’ under his breath.

“This all stops now!” Dipper raised his hand, palm flattened out, ready to push the button when Stan appeared at the doorway. “Don’t touch that button!”

He’s hunched forward, hand leaning on the frame of the doorway as he pants. Relief washes over you upon seeing Stan. Silence fills the room for a minute and all you can hear is your heart hammer against your ribcage. Stan walks towards Dipper, beckoning him to not press the button.

“If you just let me explain—“ He’s cut off by his watch repeatedly beeping. Suddenly the ground begins to shake.

The portal powers up and the circle enlarges. The electricity spazzes and travels throughout the room, creating streaks of electrical power. Your feet lift off the ground and soon everyone’s floating up in the air. The wind is fierce and it’s whipping through every direction, pushing you towards the wall.

Dipper yells at Mable to turn off the portal before it causes anymore damage. She tugs herself closer to the button using a stray cable and while she wraps herself around the neck holding up the button, Stan is begging her to listen to him and to not press the button. He’s soon tackled by Soos who pushes him away from Mable. They all fight with each other and you’re watching with a bated breath.

The portal pulses with power, sending you back first into the wall. Stan and Dipper bicker back and forth and Mable is torn with the decision of either believing her brother or her Grunkle. She lowers her hand, eyes closed and you're almost convinced she’s going to press the button when she lets go of the button. She floats up with her arms raised. “Grunkle Stan, I believe you.” She says.

“Mable, are you crazy?! We’re all gonna—!”

The world flashes white and you're immediately knocked out. You awaken to yourself plummeting face first down to the floor. You groan, pushing yourself up with one hand and the other wiping off the dust on your face. Looking around you can see your family scattered around the room, each of them slowly waking up from whatever happened and stumbling back to their feet.

Your head quickly whips towards the portal and your heart lurches into your throat upon seeing a figure step out of it. He stands still, staring straight ahead as he takes off his hood and goggles. And what hid behind them was your father.

After the initial shock of meeting the one behind the three books and the reveal of him being related to Stan was pushed aside, you presented yourself with the help of Stan. “H-Hi, Dad.” You awkwardly greet yourself.

His eyes stop on you and he freezes, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly ajar. He takes a minute to process the absurdity of the situation before he’s snapping back to consciousness. He blinks once, his mouth stuttering as he finds the right words to say. He then blinks again, stepping a cautious step towards you. Your name softly spills out of his mouth and your heart soars hearing your Dad finally utter your name again.

You take a step forward and then another and another until you’re face to face with him. Being closer to him allowed you to see how much he has aged since the last time you saw him. “Dad…” You whisper, throwing yourself into him.

A light wheeze escapes his mouth from the sudden impact of your body crashing on him. Once he recovers, his arms are quickly wrapped around you, hugging you with so much warmth and love you almost sobbed right then and there.

He snuggled his face against your hair, breathing in your familiar scent he missed so dearly while he was away. “We have so much to catch up on.” You say so quietly that he almost lost your words if it wasn’t for you being directly near his ear. He hums in affirmation, cherishing the long awaited reunion with his daughter.

“I feel like this is another part where one of us faints again.” Mable says in utter disbelief at the scene that unfolded in front of her. “Ohoh!” Soos laughed out. “I’m so on it, dudes.” As if on command his eyes roll to the back of his head and he faints flat on his back.

HEADCANON TIME!!

• You weren’t really expecting to talk to him much due to Stan wanting to talk to his brother, but after their fight, he came looking for you. When he found you, you were sitting on the couch that was outside on the porch. You were reading a book you recently purchased from the bookstore. Nose deep in your book, you failed to realize Ford standing beside you. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his trench coat. Quietly he asked, “Is there room for one more?”

• The night was spent with the two of you getting to know each other. From your favorite color to your favorite show, what food you like to eat and so on. Ford wanted to fully understand and know you as a person. He wanted to make up all the years he lost with you.

• The next day, you awoke to the smell of your favorite breakfast food being cooked. With haste you pushed your blanket off of you and slipped on your slippers and sped off into the kitchen where Ford was buttering the pan. He looked over to you and flashed you a smile. “I made you your favorite.” He said, motioning over to the table where he laid out your breakfast. “You didn’t have to do this.” You scratched your cheek, a small laugh of surprise leaving you. “I’m just doing what I always dreamed of doing.” He shoveled out his breakfast onto his plate using a spatula. “How’s the food, kiddo?” He asks, placing the pan and spatula on the dirty side of the sink. “Actually pretty good for someone who hasn't been in this dimension for over a decade!” You jest, taking another delicious bite from your breakfast. Ford jokingly rolled his eyes, ruffling your hair as he walked past you and sat down on his chair. “Already poking fun at me.” He said, shaking his head.

• Stanford knew he had to focus on his projects, he had so many things he left unfinished that he'd been dying to get his hands on the minute he stepped foot into his dimension. But he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from you. He loved seeing you interact with the twins, he loved watching how pieces of his personality shone through you. Like the way you’re so meticulous with where you put things, or how you were forever curious about the things around you, and even the abundance of questions you’d mutter to yourself as you discovered something new. That’s all of him right there, in front of him and he couldn’t grasp such a thought that you were his!

• He finds himself gazing upon baby photos Stan took of you when you were younger. Even if he’s angry at his twin currently, he’s forever grateful that he documented such beautiful memories in a scrapbook. “Y’know, I used to tell stories about you to her.” A shriek leaves Ford. He jumps forward, the scrapbook tumbling down his lap and onto the floor. “You idiot! Be careful.” Stan sneered, kneeling down to the floor to pick up the scrapbook. “Stanley!” Ford leans his head back, trying to regain his composure. “You scared me!” He says. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Stan waves him off, grabbing the scrapbook and tucking it in between his arms. They stand in awkward silence, eyes darting around the place uneasily. “Did…” Ford starts, shattering the silence. “Did she like the stories you told of me?” Stan smiles fondly, nodding his head. “She loved them. She thought you were some stupid amazing superhero, no matter what I told her.” Ford furrowed his brows. “Wait, what do you mean by no matter what you told her?” Stan nervously laughed. “Hey, why don’t you keep looking at these photos! Wait here, look at this one. Haha! She’s trying to eat her toes, isn’t that adorable?” “Stanley.”

• Outings between the two of you were very common. He loved being tugged around the town of Gravity Falls by you as you pointed at various different shops and locations. You told him the reasons why you hated them or loved them, and some were tied to stories that happened within the summer. He seriously questioned how you and the twins survived so many times where you were just so close to death. The mall was a place where you and him resided the most. With the money he took from Stan, he paid for almost everything you wanted. Entering the shack with so many bags was a shock to everyone. “Woah! Did you buy the whole mall?” Mable jokes, grabbing one of the bags to help you with the load. “Basically,” you laughed, instructing Mable to rally Soos and Dipper to have a little haul of what you bought. Stan watched with a raised brow as you stumbled into the living room with Mable following closely behind. “Where did you get all the money to buy her all of that?” Stan asks. “Just stole some money from some hobo.” Ford said, walking into the living room to join in on the haul. Stan didn’t understand what he said and opened the cash register. When he saw all the money he had stored the day before gone, it all clicked.

• Adventures out in the woods is a must. Gathering the twins and your dad, all four of you venture out into the woods in hopes to find something new. “Why couldn’t Grunkle Stan tag along with us?” Mable asked as she kneeled down to pluck a flower from the dirt. “Because he’s being a wet towel.” Dipper muttered, scribbling down a rough drawing of the flower Mable was picking in a book you bought him. “So what kind of anomalies you three stumbled upon?” Ford questioned. You and the twins began to dump everything onto him, from when you started seeing them to when Dipper and Mable came. Ford couldn’t truly focus on what they were saying, mostly because it was a jumbled excited mess of words, but partially because he was astonished with the trio in front of him. They went through so much and yet they’re still so headstrong. He could definitely see a little bit of him in Dipper and Mable.

• Stan would find you and Ford fallen asleep on the couch or in his lab, all huddled up together and completely knocked out. Snores filled the room and he found it amusing that you and him both snores the same. Videos and photos were definitely taken by Mable.

• Ford would tell stories of his adventures in another dimension to you. Stemming from how he started from the ground up to him getting banned from many other dimensions for stealing parts. “You’re not so different from Uncle Stan,” You laughed, shaking your head. “What! It was only a few…hundred dimensions.”

• There’s times where you’d wake up in a cold sweat, afraid that your Dad finally coming back was just a painful dream your brain played on you. But when you would get ready to find him, you’d step on his stomach or back. “Ough!” Ford groaned out in pain. Being suddenly woken up from his sleep, he sat up, looking around confused. “What are you doing sleeping on the floor?” You sat back down on your bed, pulling the blankets over you. “Is there a problem with me sleeping on the floor?” Ford asks, looking at you with squinted eyes. “No, no.” You laid back down on your bed. “Go back to sleep. I’m better now,” You say, somewhat amused with Ford sleeping on the floor beside your bed. “Goodnight, I love you.” You brush your fingers playfully across his face to annoy him. He shoves your fingers away from his face, huffing out. “Goodnight,” He shuffles to his side, looking up to you with a small smile. “I love you more, kiddo.”

[fcthots]

How do you think Jason would act when he took the reader's virginity?

He would take it so slow, check on you constantly, talk you through it, fggjhdrffhg. also if you saw my fail at posting this earlier no u didn’t

You're laid out on the bed bare before him. He's got nothing but his boxers on, stranding your waist.

"You wanna do this, right?"

You nod your head. He speaks again.

"Okay. You ready?"

To be honest, you aren't sure. You're freaking out a little bit. He can see it in your eyes.

He reaches for your hand. "We'll take it slow." You nod your head.

"Gotta make sure you're wet enough first. I know you're nervous, and that's okay. We just have to make sure you're turned on." He puts his hands on your waist and drags you towards the edge of the bed, so your legs are hanging off and you're sitting up. "Tap me anywhere twice and we'll stop, no questions asked." He wraps his arms around your thighs and gives you small kitten licks, just enough to have you moaning and wanting more.

He stops for a second to look at you. "We're gonna have to work you open. I'm gonna start with one finger and we'll build our way up." His mouth returns to your clit, but this time you feel a finger gently prod at your entrance before he removes his head once more. "Okay?" You nod your head again. "Can you say it for me, love?"

"'M okay."

"Good girl." He watches your face as he slowly works his middle finger in you. He begins to gently thrust it in and out as he puts his face back between your thighs and his mouth back to its previous task. You can feel your pleasure building, and moan with every thrust.

Before you know it, he's added his ring finger and is working you open with both fingers, separating them and bringing them back together to stretch you out.

"Doin' so good f' me, baby. Ready for another one?"

[san8ny]

“I’m being stalked and find it hot”

u/READER - posted 3m ago / E.W / Prologue

For starters, I (_F) have a female neighbor a few doors down. She’s quite meek and shy, doesn’t really talk unless you initiate it, redhead with freckles, lives with her dad— nothing out of the ordinary.

Some background stuff to note as I tell this story, is that I’ve had several instances when I first moved into my complex where it seemed like I was being stalked, such as my mail and doorlocks being tampered with. Naturally, I confided in the neighbor I mentioned earlier since my management office were just not taking me seriously. Immediately, she begins reasurring me i’m safe, that she’d never let anything hurt me and that I should stop being so weird. It’s gotten to the point where i’ve began inviting her over for nights when her dad works overnight because I cannot keep sleeping in fear.

However, there was one specific night where when I invited her over, I felt somewhat guilty for taking her away from the comfort of her own bed and subjecting her to my cheap couch, so I invited her into my own bed, insisting we were both women and that we could sleep with no funny business since I trusted her. We both sleep, and everything seemed good. Hours later, I wake up and she’s no longer besides me. I check my bathroom, couch and she’s not there. I was about to conclude that she’d likely went back to her home, but my door was locked, meaning she was somewhere still inside my unit. Of course, I probably should’ve called out her name but something inside of me didn’t feel right. I return back into my room, and she’s there, laid in bed like nothing happened. I whisper her name but she’s in a deep-sleep. What the fuck was happening to me?

Next morning as we have breakfast, I bring it up and she just looks at me blankly, stating I was just seeing things. This was a thing she’d do, where she’d frequently just gaslight me, claiming like others I was paranoid, and honestly, I was starting to believe them, until it happened. I’m coming back from work earlier than usual on friday, and I see my door is already unlocked. I walk in, and im met with a distant rustling noise. There, was my very neighbor buried facedown in my laundry hamper. I couldn’t even begin to describe the emotions I felt, but I choked up and ran off back into the hallway. After a while, she exits my apartment and just walks to her own— like she hadn’t been making my life a nightmare..

It’s been a few months since the incident and we’ve began seeing eachother romantically, to which I accepted for reasons I don’t know. To this day, she still doesn’t know I know— that I saw that night, but my problem, is that I shamefully find arousal in her perverse nature. Something about her infatuation stirred me right to know she’d been the one stalking me, and not some other person. I know it’s sick, but I have never been the type to be pursued like this.

What do I do?

[forlix]

𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫・h.h.

— an impromptu drive to the airport at five in the morning rekindles conversations and feelings alike.

words・2.5k pairing・ex-boyfriend!hyunjin x gn!reader genres・angst, mutual pining, hurt w/no resolution, established (former) relationship, Airport Scene™ warnings・implied toxicity, strong language, Not a Happy Read

a/n・dear anon who asked where this went after i posted and deleted it a few months ago & dear other anon who requested mentioned hyune angst: this is for u, my loves

“I’m outside,” was how you were greeted over the phone earlier, in a tone so callous and cold that you barely recognized the speaker. Barely.

“Sorry, you’re what?”

“You have a flight today, right? I said I’d take you to the airport.”

One second, you were at a complete loss; the next, you thought you were going to erupt with how much you felt and how much you wanted to say, the weight of the situation hitting you with full force. Your ex-boyfriend, to whom you hadn’t spoken in nearly three weeks, had just materialized outside your home with no warning at the ass crack of dawn and suggested you get into a car alone with him for an hour.

As if that wasn’t the very last thing you wanted to do.

Briefly, you reflected on how you parted ways; you wouldn’t say the breakup was malicious, but it certainly wasn’t amicable, either. The longer your relationship went on, the more questions you raised—important and unavoidable considerations of your future together, none of which Hyunjin could give you substantial answers to. Whether it was because he couldn’t or because he simply didn’t care to try, you didn’t know. But the fact that you had to ask yourself that at all was enough for you to take a step back.

Distance morphed into passive aggression. That, in turn, precipitated constant conflict. The starlight that you saw in Hyunjin fizzled further with every biting word and slammed door. The resulting supernova was far from the beautiful spectacle you’d been promised in your astronomy textbooks.

Standing on the sidewalk outside your apartment was your fallen star in the flesh.

“Let me do this, Y/N."

You’d gone silent for what felt like whole minutes before Hyunjin spoke again.

"Please," he added. You perceived how the word weakened towards the end, some of the frost in his voice displaced by quiet exasperation.

It was these observations, plus the time displayed on the clock hanging above your bathroom door, that prompted you to take your luggage in hand and leave your apartment. You were going to miss your flight if you stood there, glowering silently, for any longer.

When you emerged into the frigid morning, you spotted Hyunjin’s silhouette immediately, and something inside you came undone, as though a knot had been doing itself over and over since you and him parted ways. Your eyes locked together, your gaze contemplative, his a little surprised, as if he didn’t actually expect you to accept his offer.

The first word that came to your mind was exhausted. You could tell that the shadows on his face weren’t just products of the lone streetlight above his head; he had his back curved in a slouch that made him look a few inches shorter than he was. You were reminded of a balloon with an indiscernible opening somewhere on its surface, gradually and inevitably deflating.

Much to your irritation, the second word to surface in your mind was beautiful. Hyunjin’s normally sharp features, from what you could see beneath his hood, were bare and smooth from fatigue; thick strands of dark hair, longer than you remembered, fell effortlessly over his forehead and his cheekbones; his figure somehow looked even broader, leaner when fitted in the loose material of a hoodie and sweatpants.

He was the spitting image of a man you used to know, who looked just like this whenever he wandered into your bedroom at the end of the day, whenever he wrapped you into his arms and littered kisses over your skin until sleep overcame the both of you like a warm, clear tide, whenever he greeted you with a smile that shone like the tropical sun the next morning.

You were standing in front of a ghost.

You broke eye contact first, averting your eyes to your luggage instead. Just in time to see and feel his hand brush against yours when he took your suitcases from you and loaded them into the trunk, all without saying a word.

Now, twenty minutes have passed since Hyunjin started driving, and forty remain before you reach the airport. The vehicle is deathly silent save for the drone of wheels against pavement and wind whistling against dusty windows. You haven’t looked at Hyunjin since you met him outside your place. Instead, your eyes are fixated on the lights of Seoul and the way they flicker out of sight one by one as you drive further away.

And you remember.

The different memories you have of this car blow through your mind like you’re skimming a flipbook. That time you burst into tears mid-drive and Hyunjin pulled over on the side of the highway, giving you his undivided attention as you ranted about the terrible day you’d had. That time you noticed a paparazzi van stationed around the corner and the two of you sank so low in your seats that you had to later unfold yourselves from beneath the glove compartments. The assorted dog-shaped air fresheners you bought for him, a new one hanging from the rear-view every month (except the one that resembled Kkami, which stuck around for almost a year). The caffeine-flavored kisses shared over the cupholders between the seats, one person tipping over the drinks precariously, the other moving to catch them with a soft huff of laughter. The extra hoodie he kept in his backseat for if you ever accidentally underdressed when you went out together. The playlist you curated together, always playing quietly in the background.

You never gave this car a second thought when you and Hyunjin were together, but it is only now that you realize the place felt a little like an extension of home, of him.

The silence becomes fucking excruciating.

You are not sure if Hyunjin is interested in speaking to you. You’re less sure if you even have anything to say to him. But you open your mouth anyway.

“Thank you,” you say, hardly audible. “For doing this.”

A pregnant pause follows. Hyunjin probably wasn’t expecting you to start a conversation—neither were you, to be fair.

Little do you know that he has been trying and failing to string together a sentence since the moment he started the engine, and hearing your voice feels like clouds parting on a foggy day, a singular ray of sunshine settling on his cheek.

“It’s no trouble,” he returns. He’s quiet for a while after this, and you’re beginning to think the conversation is already over when he clears his throat.

“How are you feeling? About the trip, I mean.”

“Good. I think it’ll be nice to get away from Seoul for some time.”

Your choice of answer is intentional, and you can tell by Hyunjin’s lack of immediate response that he picks up on this.

“And you?” You return. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine, thanks. The members and I went to the states a few days ago, finished up album promotions there.”

“Oh, right.” He’d told you about this; they’d been in Japan prior, if you remember correctly. “And everything went well?”

“Yeah. It was a lot of fun.”

“When did you get back?”

You don’t expect him to hesitate at such a simple question, but he does.

“Few hours ago,” he mumbles.

This takes you a few seconds to process. And then, so surprised at his answer that you can no longer help yourself, you finally lift your gaze to the side of Hyunjin’s face.

Your eyes comb over the fluorescent lights of the highway illuminating the slope of his nose; the weariness clouding his irises; his teeth latched gently around his lower lip, as if trying to prevent himself from saying another word.

Hyunjin turns his head to look at you, too, only for a few seconds and more out of anxiety than anything. But you have long mastered the art of reading the fine print of his facial expressions, and that brief interval is enough for you to catch what hadn’t been there the last time you’d looked him in the eye: the true reason why he’d hardly set his bags down on the dormitory floor before he was leaving again, piling into a car and going to you; the same entity that you know is etched all over your face, too.

Yearning.

He is the one who looks away first this time, with a soft snap of his head like he has to force himself to do it—but the damage has already been done.

“Idiot,” you mutter under your breath, and you mean it in every sense of the word.

And it’s so unexpected (and so damn true) that it wrests a laugh from Hyunjin’s lips, the sound every bit as light as it is dark. The bittersweet smile that it leaves behind on his face mirrors helplessly onto your own.

You don’t say another word to each other for the rest of the drive.

The sun has risen by the time Hyunjin pulls up to the curb of the international terminal, but there’s hardly anybody around at this time of day, so he doesn’t mask up before stepping out of the car. He places your suitcases in front of you, then holds up a finger as a silent gesture of wait right there—and he dashes up the curb, beelines towards the line of trolleys, and pulls one over. 

You feel a helpless warmth in your fingertips as you haul your suitcases onto the metal platform together. Even now, he’s taking care of you, as thoughtlessly and naturally as respiring.

“Is that everything?”

“I think so.”

And the two of you find yourselves two feet apart and facing each other, examining your counterparts as if the answer of what the fuck to say now lies in the curves of their cheeks, in the purse of their lips.

But all you obtain from looking at Hyunjin is a glimpse of that wicked entity again, yearning, now in the form of eyes softened by the sunrise and lips parted by forbidden words, sitting readily on the tip of his tongue.

You feel a deep, hollow sadness within you, derived from knowing and hating that no amount of yearning will change the reality that he’s not yours anymore.

“Have a great trip,” Hyunjin says at last. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will,” you answer. “Thank you again. Get some rest today.”

Your arms move to push your trolley, but not before they nearly twitch in his direction with how much you want to hug him goodbye. The last thing you see before turning around is his hand in the air, and then you enter the airport, wondering vaguely if you will ever see him again.

You're in a bit of a numb state as you check in your bags and step into the line for security. The last hour has left you feeling like your heart and mind have filled with static—the kind that shows up when there are too many television signals in the air, all of them unintelligible and amorphous.

But then there is a shout of your name behind you, so urgent that the familiar voice cracks over the last syllable, like bone breaking upon boulder. You turn around.

The white noise clears.

The soles of Hyunjin’s sneakers echo as he runs across the mostly-empty airport; his hood has been knocked down and his long hair set free, combed backward by the wind; there are other eyes on him, but he is only looking at you, something else burning in his gaze now, something certain and familiar. 

You move your suitcases aside and extend your arms, your pulse racing with anticipation—just in time for him to positively crash into you. He very well could have hurt you with how quickly he’s moved toward you, but the very instant his skin meets yours, he’s gathering you so tightly and securely in his arms that he cushions his own fall, costing you only of the breath in your lungs.

And the two of you fuse together like a cosmic collision, imperfect but quintessential. The moon’s craters themselves.

He knots one hand in your hair and cradles the back of your neck with the other; you form fists around the fabric of his hoodie, your face disappearing into the junction of his neck and shoulder. And you feel the tears come at last: tears of relief, of regret, of remembrance.

There are a billion things Hyunjin wants to say to you then. He wants to thank you for loving him. He wants to blame you for loving him. He wants to tell you that it was all worth it for him, so long as he was once the reason that you smiled. He wants to convince you—and himself—that nothing was meant to last forever, that the two of you were destined to burn out, the same way even the biggest and brightest of heavenly bodies have shelf lives too.

But there is one train of thought that overshadows the rest. It rings louder and truer than anything he has ever known and emerges straight from the chambers of his heart.

“I—” He sounds shattered when he speaks, his voice muffled where his lips touch your skin, his words a rasp that is only audible to you. “I still—”

“I know,” you whisper, squeezing your watering eyes. “Me too.”

And you think the shaky “fuck” that leaves his lips is an apt summary of the absolute mess that the two of you have found yourselves in: entirely and obtusely enamored with the person who has proven themselves to be incompatible with your love, time and time again.

You are only willing to pull away far enough from Hyunjin so that you can look at him, his cheeks now damp with saltwater and flushed with emotion, his dreary eyes swimming with adoration and sorrow. You cradle his face with both hands, and he drops his arms to circle around your waist. His fingers lace together against the small of your back.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you murmur. You wipe at his tears with your thumbs, touch your forehead to his. “We’re gonna be okay, Hyun.”

His reply is so sad and so small that your heart feels like it’s being carved out of your chest with a blunt pocket knife. “When?”

You don’t know the answer.

You don’t know the answer when you finally go through security, the final boarding call for your flight booming through the intercom, Hyunjin’s face buried in his shaking sleeves.

You don’t know the answer when you return to Seoul a few months later, and Hyunjin is not there to give you a lift this time.

You don’t know the answer when your birthday passes and you still receive texts from Hyunjin’s parents, wishing you well, reminding you to take care of yourself. Nor do you know the answer on the birthday after that, or the birthday after that, which is when the texts stop coming.

You won’t know the answer for a very long time—so much so that you spend years of your life doubting there’s an answer at all. But you find it one day when you least expect it, and it congeals in your mind like expired milk, numbs your mouth like the strongest of anesthetics. 

You have your answer then, but you don’t want it.

You never have.

🔖・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[inmyheaddd]

late to the party - jameson hawthorne x reader

a/n: little jameson blurb while i work on requests 🤭 i hope u enjoy!! summary: jameson very inconsiderately interrupts your ootd, coming up from behind you and kissing you all over wc: 624 masterlist

after 2 long hours, you had finally finished getting ready for an event you were going to. today, you truly did feel beautiful. 

you set up your phone to film a little “outfit of the day” video, pressing the record button and taking a few steps back from the camera. 

through the small phone screen, you saw your boyfriend jameson open the door and enter your room, causing you to turn around briefly, smiling at him. you felt your heart flutter as you took in his appearance — his suit tailored to perfection, tie matching your dress, and his fingers adorned with a ring or two. 

“anyway,” you addressed the camera with a flustered chuckle, “these are my heels today, and my…”

you continued your outfit check, of course, with jameson simply standing next to you now with the most lovesick gaze. it made you feel all fluttery and you stumbled on a word or two — and if that wasn’t enough, he very rudely interrupted you. 

he didn’t exactly say anything to cut you off, but with moving to stand behind you, and wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you from behind, what did he expect?

a laugh fell past your lips as you turned your head to look at him, “what are you doing?”

he hummed lowly in response, muttering compliments into your ears. he swayed you gently side to side before he started peppering your neck with kisses. they were so featherlight, they felt like tickles. 

giggling and not breaking away from jameson, you blindly reached for your phone and pushed it face down. you turned to face him now, wrapping both arms around his neck as his hands found your lower back.

“jameson,” you managed to get out between breathless laughs as he continued to attack your neck, walking the both of you backwards until your back hit the mattress. 

you kicked off your heels and he crawled ontop of you, a mischievous grin of his own on his face, before finally pressing a kiss to your lips.

yes, he smudged a lot of your lipstick off, yes, you’d have to reapply later, and yes, you were probably going to be late to the event. but it was definitely worth it. 

you cradled his face with your hands as you pressed short kisses to his lips, and there were endless small, breathless, laughs coming from the both of you time whole time. 

much to the both of your dismay’s, breathing was not an optional choice, so jameson pulled back, laying flat on his back and catching his breath as you did the same.

you turned your head to look at him, a faux pout on your lips as you looked at him.

“i can’t post that video now.” you mumbled.

he chuckled breathlessly and turned his head to look at you, another one of those grins on his face from earlier, one you’d never get tired of. “why not?” he quipped back, “i don’t see a problem with it.” 

his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, laughing as he saw you roll your eyes jokingly. “right, because everyone would just love to see me get ambushed by my obsessed boyfriend.”

he laughed once again, “… i mean,” he trailed off “i would.” he said, pursing his lips and shrugging, not denying the ‘obsessed’ title you jokingly gave him.

this time you couldn’t hold back the giggle that threatened to escape, “shut up,” you said, attempting to hide your flushed state. you sat up and put your heels back on, and jameson stood up, smoothing a hand over his suit jacket. “we’re going to be so late.” you continued.

“fashionably late,” he offered, as you fixed your lipstick in the mirror. he just leaned back against the wall, watching you with that same lovesick grin.

he would be late to every event, if it meant having you like this. and even with all your sarcastic remarks and eye rolls, you’d let him mess up your makeup any day.

and that grin of his just told you he knew that fact all too well.

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @sweetlikeanangel @littlemissmentallyunstable

@anintellectualintellectual @bewitchingkisses @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee

[kaleidoscopecth]

Masked Regret

MDNI!!!!

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: after going MIA for a few days, luke shows up at you and your best friend michael’s shared apartment on halloween, desperate to make amends.

warnings: smut, overstimulation, toy usage, slight knife play, blink and you’ll miss it hint of a slightly toxic relationship

word count: 4.6k

a/n: Okkkkayyyyy, so I saw someone request a Ghostface Luke fic somewhere and it got me thinking. Originally, I wrote this with an OC from a fic i’m working on, but ended up switching to an x reader format. This is my first post here on Tumblr, so bear with me if it’s a little wonky or if I make any mistakes. I also edited this myself, so if you catch anything I missed, please let me know!

anyway, this is for my twt gc, i love u freaks

Copyright © 2024 kaleidoscopecth. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You sat slouched on the couch of your shared apartment with Michael, mindlessly scrolling through Netflix in a futile attempt to find something that could distract you from Luke’s absence. No matter how hard you tried, your focus kept slipping.

Michael had begged you to come with him to a Halloween party earlier, but you’d refused. Not for the first time, you had turned down something you would have enjoyed—all because of Luke.

Your gaze drifted to the phone on the coffee table, the absence of notifications glaring back at you like a silent taunt. You forced your eyes back to the TV, but your thoughts refused to cooperate. Three days. It had been three days since he disappeared without a word. He’d promised to spend Halloween with you, yet he hadn’t shown.

The creeping fear you always tried to suppress began to rise. It was the same fear that gripped you whenever Luke disappeared, leaving you in the dark without so much as a message to say he was okay. You hated how easily it consumed you, how it made you question what you even meant to him. Were you really his girlfriend? Or just a convenience?

Before the spiral could go any deeper, your phone buzzed sharply, its ringtone breaking the heavy silence. You nearly launched yourself off the couch, scrambling to grab the device, only to fumble it in your haste. The phone skittered across the table, but you snatched it up, heart racing as you answered.

Luke’s name flashed on the screen.

Your heart leapt, but you forced your tone to remain steady as you answered. “Was starting to think you were the victim of a bad horror movie,” You mused, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your pajama pants while you awaited his response.

The line crackled with his heavy, slightly muffled breathing before he finally spoke. “So,” he began, drawing out the word, his tone laced with cocky amusement. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

Your brow furrowed at his breathy voice, noticeably deeper than usual. “Yeah,” You replied, the confusion in your tone clear. “It’s you, dummy.”

A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, sending a shiver down your spine. “Open your door, Y/ N,” Luke drawled, his voice dripping with something dark and teasing. “You’re looking… lonely.”

You froze, pulse quickening. “What the hell has gotten into you?” You asked, scrambling off the couch and padding cautiously toward the door. “You can’t see inside.”

Your hand hovered over the handle, thoughts racing.

Luke didn’t answer, offering only a low chuckle from the other side of the door. Irritation bubbled in your chest as you gripped the doorknob, mentally rehearsing a speech about the importance of communication. With a sharp exhale, you flung the door open, ready to confront him—only to freeze mid-breath.

You let out a loud gasp, any annoyance momentarily forgotten.

Luke stood there, leaning casually against your doorway, dressed head to toe in a Ghostface costume. The dark fabric clung to his broad shoulders, the mask in place, giving him an eerie, almost theatrical presence. Your eyebrows shot up as your eyes swept over him, caught between surprise and intrigue.

Slowly, with deliberate precision, Luke slid the mask up, revealing his face. Your breath hitched at the sight of him. His hair was artfully messy, most likely due to the mask. His pupils were wide and dark, the dim light catching the sharp gleam of his lip ring as it contrasted against the soft pink of his slightly parted lips.

A lazy, knowing smile spread across his face, one corner of his mouth quirking up just enough to send a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help the way your lips parted in response, your gaze lingering on him longer than you intended.

“Happy Halloween,” he drawled, hanging up the phone his voice low and smooth, as if he had no idea—or perhaps full knowledge—of the effect he was having on you.

“Happy Halloween?” You echoed, anger surging through you as you stepped aside enough to let Luke inside. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Luke didn’t waste any time, grabbing your face in his gloved hands and pressing his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Even though you were mad, more than mad, the feeling of his lips against yours was enough to send a shiver down your spine, your hands instinctively intertwining behind his neck.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice low and earnest as he kissed along your jawline. His hands moved to your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto the breakfast island near the door. His lips trailed down the sensitive column of your neck, licking, nipping, and leaving you gasping for air. "Let me make it up to you."

Your eyes fluttered shut as heat pooled in your stomach, but you fought the pull. "No," you sighed, trying to steady your voice. Luke pulled back just enough to fix you with an exaggerated pout.

"I'm mad," you added, your tone unconvincing even to yourself.

Luke rolled his eyes, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips as his hands settled on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Sure you are," he murmured, his voice laced with amusement. Slowly, his hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt.

The rough texture of his gloved fingers against you soft skin made your breath hitch, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine despite your resolve to stay annoyed.

“I’m serious,” You insisted, your frown deepening. You hated how easily your body betrayed you, responding to Luke’s touch despite the simmering anger still coursing through you.

“So am I,” Luke replied, flashing that infuriatingly charming lopsided grin—the one that made your stomach flip no matter how mad you wanted to be. “And I really want to make it up to you.”

You let out an exasperated groan, your hand hesitating before tracing the line of his stubbled jaw. The contrast of roughness against your fingertips sent a shiver down your spine. “I want to stay mad at you,” You murmured, though your voice softened, betraying your resolve.

“Then stay mad,” Luke teased, his voice dropping lower as he leaned in to nip at your earlobe. His breath was warm against your skin, making your heart race. “It’ll make it more fun. Please, baby, I missed you.”

Your resolve crumbled further at the sincerity in his tone, your anger quickly being replaced by something softer. “I can’t be mad when you look at me like that,” you grumbled, your eyes fluttering closed as the heat of his lips against your neck made your breath hitch.

You felt him grin against your skin. "Good thing I brought a mask, then," he whispered huskily. With a teasing laugh, he pulled back just enough to capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was harsh, needy, his teeth grazing your lower lip as his hands roamed up your thighs, igniting a trail of fire with every touch.

Abruptly, Luke pulled away, leaving you breathless. Sliding the Ghostface mask back over his face, he tilted his head, the eerie blankness of the mask only adding to the tension.

Your breathing quickened as you stared at him, the stark white mask concealing his face but doing nothing to hide the magnetic pull between them. The faintest shiver of excitement coursed through you at the sight, anticipation thrumming in your veins.

Without a word, Luke swept you off the counter, eliciting a soft yelp of surprise. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms clinging to his shoulders as he carried you to the bedroom.

Luke dropped you onto the bed with little ceremony, his posture dominating as he loomed over you. Tilting his head again, he studied you intently, his breathing heavy. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and charged.

"Strip," he commanded, his voice muffled but firm behind the mask. Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled a small compact knife from his pocket. He brought the tip of the blade to your jawline, dragging it lightly along her skin without breaking it.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost breathless.

You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew Luke would never hurt you—he would rather die than see you in harm's way—but the adrenaline coursing through your veins only heightened your excitement. Slowly, you nodded.

Your hands moved on instinct, crossing your arms to grip the hem of your shirt. With one swift movement, you pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. You could feel Luke's gaze on you even through the mask, his presence heavy and electrifying.

Reaching behind you, you unclasped your bra, letting it slip down your arms and onto the bed. The cool air brushed your bare skin, making you shiver as you waited, your breath hitching in anticipation of what he’d do next.

Slowly, Luke dragged the tip of the knife along your skin, never pressing hard enough to break it. The cool, faintly ticklish sensation sent a cascade of goosebumps down your arms. When the blade traced lazy circles around your nipple, your breath hitched, your body responding to his calculated movements.

"Take off your pants," he commanded, his voice low and steady behind the mask.

"Leave the panties on."

You nodded, fingers fumbling slightly as you shimmied out of your pajama pants. The intensity of his gaze—or what you imagined was his gaze behind the mask—kept you on edge, anticipation crackling in the air between the two of you.

Without saying a word, Luke pushed you back onto the mattress, his hands firm yet careful. Then, with deliberate slowness, he turned and began rummaging through your bedside drawer.

Your stomach fluttered as you realized exactly what he was looking for. Your throat went dry as he pulled out your vibrator—a bright pink wand you’d grown far too accustomed to during Luke's recent absence.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement, pulse quickening as his grip tightened around the toy. "Looks like you've been keeping busy," he murmured, his tone tinged with amusement as he tilted his head. The mask obscured his face, but you could imagine the smug grin beneath it.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "Someone had to pick up the slack."

Luke chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"Oh, I plan to make up for it. But first..." Luke clicked the vibrator on, the low hum slicing through the quiet tension of the room as he stepped closer. "Let's see how well you've been taking care of yourself."

Instead of removing your underwear, he pressed the vibrator directly against your clothed clit. The sensation was immediate, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You arched your back, a gasp tumbling from your lips as your thighs trembled involuntarily.

Even with the thin barrier of your panties, the vibrations were overwhelming. Luke stood silently, watching your every reaction, the anonymity of the mask amplifying the heat between you two .

Your breath hitched as you glanced at him, the stark white of the mask hiding his expression, but you didn't miss the way his free hand slid down to rub against the growing strain in his pants. The sight sent another wave of desire crashing through you.

"I'm so sorry, baby," Luke murmured, his voice dripping with guilt and heat as he pressed the vibrator more firmly against you.

He leaned over you, bracing himself with one hand on the headboard while the other held the toy steady against your soaked panties.

"Sorry I left you all alone to take care of yourself. Bet you're so needy for my cock, aren't you?"

You let out a strangled moan, your hips bucking instinctively against the relentless vibrations.

"Yes," You whimpered, your voice trembling. Your head tilted back as waves of pleasure coursed through you, thighs shaking uncontrollably. You gripped the bed covers like a lifeline, your fingernails digging into the fabric as your body tensed.

The wetness soaking through your underwear made it impossible for you to ignore how close you were. Your clit throbbed, oversensitized but still chasing the high that was just out of reach. The familiar burn of your orgasm built steadily in your core, your breaths coming in sharp gasps.

Luke watched you intently, his masked head tilted in mock curiosity. The tension in his body was palpable, his free hand twitching as though resisting the urge to touch you further.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your hand shot up to remove the mask, desperate to see the expression on his face, to connect with him beyond the teasing. But Luke caught your wrist with lightning speed, his gloved fingers wrapping tightly around your arm.

"Ah, ah," he tutted, a playful edge to his voice. "You hate me, remember? Let me make it up to you without ruining the fun. No need to see my infuriating face."

Infuriatingly beautiful, you thought to yourself, biting back the words. Your breath hitched as the vibrations pushed you closer to the brink. "Please, Luke," you pleaded, your voice cracking with desperation. "I want to come."

Even though you couldn’t see it, you knew that Luke was smirking under his mask, staring at your squirming body with satisfaction. “Don’t worry, you will,” Luke chuckled. “But let me enjoy my apology, too.”

Luke's gloved hand slid down to your chest, gripping your soft flesh with a possessive hunger. His fingers kneaded your breast before pinching your hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your already oversensitized body. The sensations were overwhelming, and you let out a breathless gasp, your chest heaving as you struggled to hold yourself together.

"I'm so sorry," Luke murmured again, his voice a low rasp that seemed to reverberate through you. The apology was a trigger, pushing you completely over the edge. Your body tensed, and you came with a sharp, breathless cry, your eyes squeezing shut so tightly you feared you’d never open them again. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure wracked your body, leaving you trembling and gasping for air.

Your hand instinctively reached up to grip Luke's forearm, desperate for something to anchor yourself with as the intensity of your orgasm left you shaking uncontrollably.

"That's it," Luke purred, his voice velvety and low, laced with satisfaction. "Good girl." But even as your body fell limp beneath him, the vibrator remained pressed against your clit, the relentless hum prolonging you overstimulation.

You whimpered, your thighs twitching as the sensitivity became almost unbearable. You squirmed beneath him, your breaths shallow and ragged. "Luke-" you gasped, pleading for mercy, but your words were swallowed by another tremor that shook you to your core.

Luke tilted his head, watching you writhe beneath him with a smug satisfaction that even the mask couldn't conceal. "Oh, no, baby," he murmured, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I don't think l've apologized enough yet."

"Stay still for me," he commanded, his tone soft but firm as he reached for the knife he had discarded on the nightstand. The metallic click echoed in the room as he flipped it open, the gleam of the blade catching the dim light. He dragged it lightly across your skin, pressing just enough to leave faint red marks in its wake but never breaking the surface. The deliberate slowness of his movements made your core pulse with aching anticipation.

“Luke, please,” you whimpered, your voice trembling as unshed tears blurred your vision. The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, heat spreading through your body like wildfire. “I’m so close—please—”

Just as you neared the edge, Luke lifted the vibrator from your clit, drawing a sharp, desperate cry of protest from your lips.

"I'm making this up to you, pretty girl," he said in a low, intoxicating tone, his voice laced with an almost possessive intensity. "Every second you were left alone, I'll make up for. I promise."

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and

falling as your trembling hands gripped the sheets. You nodded eagerly, your mind clouded with desire, barely able to form coherent thoughts.

Luke's gloved fingers trailed down your flushed skin, his touch featherlight yet electrifying. The cold blade followed the curve of your chest, gliding down your stomach in an excruciatingly slow path. The contrast between the cool steel and the warmth of your skin sent shivers coursing through you, leaving you utterly at his mercy.

Without warning, Luke pressed the vibrator back against your throbbing clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. Your body jolted at the sudden onslaught of sensation, the relentless hum pushing you closer to the brink once again.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his masked face tilting as if studying your reaction. His words, his touch, and the intoxicating rhythm of the vibrator all worked together to unravel you completely.

"Do you think you could forgive me?" Luke mused aloud, his voice muffled but still dark and teasing through the mask. "Or was it worth the wait? God i, you're so wet, baby. I can't wait to see that pretty little pussy. Can't wait to fuck it."

You let out a soft, broken moan, biting the inside of your cheek as his filthy words sent another rush of heat straight to your core. The vibrator rested against your oversensitive clit, its hum reverberating through you, while Luke's gloved hand slowly traveled up and down your trembling thigh.

"Please, Lu," you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of your desperation. "I need more. I want more."

Luke chuckled, low and sinful, dragging the knife across your stomach with deliberate slowness. He traced lazy patterns on your skin, careful not to press too hard, his gentleness juxtaposed with the danger of the blade. The contrast made your head spin, desire clouding your every thought.

"You want more?" he echoed mockingly. "So greedy, aren't we?" His grip on your thigh tightened, and the blade shifted lower, gliding over your panties with just enough pressure to make your hips jerk.

"Say it," Luke demanded, his tone dropping, leaving no room for refusal. "Tell me you want my cock. That's what you're begging for, isn't it? Say it."

You shivered, cheeks wet with tears that streamed freely down your face as you let out a strangled cry. "Please, Luke, I want your cock. Fuck me—please—"

Luke's chuckle was dark and satisfied as he moved the knife with precision, slicing through the delicate fabric of your panties in one swift motion. The shredded material slid down your legs, leaving you bare and utterly exposed to his gaze.

For a moment, you held your breath as the vibrator's relentless hum continued to torment you, but mercifully, Luke pulled it away. Your thighs quivered as the overwhelming sensations subsided slightly, only for your need to grow even stronger under his unwavering attention.

Luke tossed the ruin fabric aside. “Such a shame,” He whispered, climbing on the bed and working open the button of his jeans. “I really liked those.” His gloved hands grabbed your trembling thighs, spreading them open enough to make space for himself.

He took his time admiring you, wet and glistening before him. Although the mask hid his face, you could still hear his heavy breathing. You didn’t doubt that he was devouring your body with his eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He whimpered, his gloved thumb brushing over your swollen clit, making your hips buck up in response. “So ready for me, aren’t you? This is what you’ve been thinking about, haven’t you? Me fucking you until you can’t even raise your head.”

“Yes,” You whispered, shaking with anticipation as your eyes flickered down to where he strained against his underwear. “Luke— I need you, please.”

He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, his thumb still teasing your clit. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he pulled down his underwear, his erection quickly freed from its confines.

Luke's tip was flushed and slick with precum as he wrapped a gloved hand around his length, guiding it to your entrance with an infuriating slowness. "You've been such a good girl for me," he murmured, dragging himself along your slick folds and pausing to tease your swollen clit. His voice was thick with desire, each word dripping with intent.

"But do you think you can forgive me?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but before a single word escaped, Luke thrust into you with no warning. Your breath hitched as a sharp cry tore from your lips, back arching off the mattress as he stretched you in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect. The days without him only amplified the sensation, the ache and fullness making your toes curl.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his voice slightly strained and breathless in your ear. He pressed deeper into you, burying himself to the hilt and stopping briefly to enjoy the feeling of it, of your walls wrapped tightly around him. “You feel so fucking good, so good f’me.”

“Only for you,” You gasped, feeling his gloved hand as it settled against your hip and gripped tightly. His other hand braced against the mattress next to your head.

“Y/N,” He rasped, still not moving. You clenched around him, whimpering in a desperate attempt to get him to move again. “I missed you so much.”

"I missed you,” You gasped, your voice a soft whimper as you writhed beneath him. The white mask loomed above you, adding a tantalizing mystery to the moment. You couldn't see his face, but you could imagine it perfectly—his blue eyes screwed shut, his teeth digging into the black lip ring he always toyed with when he was consumed by desire.

Your body tightened around him, adjusting to his size as waves of pleasure spread through you. Each second felt like an eternity, your core burning with need as your fingers clutched at his forearms for stability. "Lu," you whimpered, your voice breaking. "Please, I need you to move."

Luke's low chuckle reverberated through the room, the sound dark and teasing, making you clench around him involuntarily. He hissed sharply, the grip on your hip tightening as his gloved fingers pressed into your soft skin. "You're so needy, baby," he murmured, his tone dripping with smug amusement.

But he didn't make you wait any longer.

Slowly, he pulled his hips back, only to thrust forward again with deliberate intent. The drag of him inside you sent sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins, and your head fell back against the pillows, a moan spilling from your lips.

Luke’s hips snapped hungrily against you, setting a punishing pace that made you screw your eyes shut in pleasure. He watched you writhe beneath him, your moans filling the room and mixing in with his.

You couldn’t help the way your body responded to Luke’s grunts and gasps, and you arched against him— the friction driving you wild. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm and overstimulation, so every thrust made you see stars.

“You feel so good around me,” He whimpered, his voice muffled by the mask, but the strain in his tone was evident. “So tight and warm.”

You whimpered, your legs tightening around Luke’s waist as he continued to fuck into you. The mask obscured your view of his face, but the way his body moved with such fervor made it clear that he was just as affected as you were.

His chest heaved with every thrust, and your arms slid to his broad shoulders in search for an anchor. “Luke—“ You gasped. “Harder, please, fuck me harder.”

Luke laughed darkly, his hands tightening on your waist enough that she thought it might leave bruises. You found that you didn’t quite mind. “So fucking greedy,” He growled. “But you’re such a good girl, and I can’t say no to you.”

Luke’s pace picked up. His thrusts grew harder and deeper, more desperate as he felt you clench around him. The sound of your bodies clashing together and moans filled the room, and you felt yourself begin to grow close again.

Your head trashed against the pillow. “I’m close,” You sobbed, the intensity making your body fizzle with energy. “Oh, God.” Your nails dug into Luke’s shoulders.

“Come for me, Y/N,” He commanded. Luke leaned his masked face down, brushing against your ear. “Show me how much you missed me.”

His words were all the permission you needed, arching your back off the bed as a second, more forceful orgasm washed over you. A broken moan escaped your lips, your heels digging into the small of Luke’s back.

“That’s it,” Luke cooed, his voice filled with raw desire and pride. “So beautiful when you come for me.”

Your walls fluttered around him and you whimpered, meeting his hips with your own as you rode out your high.

But Luke didn't relent. Instead, he pulled off his mask, revealing his flushed, sweaty face.

His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, his movements never slowing as his hips continued to thrust into you with relentless force.

You let out a strangled yell, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensation. "Lu—" Your voice cracked as you gasped, breathless. "I can't—too much—"

But Luke didn't seem to hear you, driven by something primal, his need for you blinding.

“No,” He growled. “You can take it, baby, you’re doing so good. I’m not finished apologizing yet.” His thumb found your swollen clit again, rubbing firm, harsh circles on you.

You whimpered, shaking your head. But the newfound attention to your sensitive bud rekindled the flame low in your belly. The buildup was so much faster this time, so much more intense and tears slid down your face.

Luke's rhythm faltered, his movements growing erratic as his breathing became heavier. "God, you feel so good," he rasped, his voice rough with raw desire. "So fucking perfect."

The tidal wave building inside you finally crashed, pulling you under with an intensity that left you breathless. You screamed his name as your orgasm tore through you, a release so powerful it left you trembling uncontrollably. Warmth flooded between them, wetness pooling beneath you and soaking the mattress.

Luke froze for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed what had just happened.

"Holy shit, Y/N," he groaned, his voice thick with awe and arousal. "You squirted—"

The slickness and the rhythmic tightening of your walls around him pushed him past the edge he'd been teetering on. With a guttural growl, Luke buried his face in your neck, his body trembling as he drove into you one last time, deep and hard.

“Fuck baby,” he groaned, pressing a kiss to the soft flesh of your neck. You were breathing heavily, your mind a foggy mess as you looked into your boyfriend’s deep blue eyes.

He slid down your thighs, gently prying them open before leaning in to lick you clean. You let out a tired whimper, your body still slick and hypersensitive. The touch of Luke's tongue sent shivers through you—equal parts pleasure and overstimulation.

When he was satisfied, he rolled off you and climbed out of bed, peeling off his soaked costume while you watched in a cozy, contented silence. Once he was done, Luke settled back beside you, brushing a tender kiss against your lips, a soft contrast to the intensity that you had just shared.

When Luke pulled away and glanced at the mess on the mattress, a mischievous grin spread across his face. “So, I’m taking this as your way of saying you’ve forgiven me?” he teased, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your still-trembling thigh.

You ran your hands through his messy, sweat-dampened hair, your nails grazing his scalp. “I don’t know,” you murmured, a teasing smile curving your lips. “Throw in a Plan B, and we’ll call it even.”

Luke chuckled, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to smirk. “Deal.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

send in your requests pls!!! hope you guys enjoyed 🤞

[kathlare]

shit show

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: After a frustrating race in Austin, Lando’s emotions run high, leading to tension with Amelie as he shuts her out.

Wordcount: 1.8k

Warnings: arguments, fluff

request over here!

October 20th, 2024 - Austin, TX

The tension in the McLaren garage was palpable as Lando crossed the finish line in Austin. His radio crackled with updates, but nothing could drown out the frustration bubbling inside him. A five-second penalty had cost him dearly, and while the race ended with a solid result, it wasn’t what he wanted. The disappointment etched across his face as he climbed out of the car was unmistakable.

Amelie had been watching from afar, glued to her phone as the race unfolded. She knew how much the penalty would sting for him. The moment the broadcast cut to Lando’s dejected expression, her heart ached for him. She grabbed her phone and hit the call button, hoping her voice could soothe some of his frustration.

The first call went unanswered. Then the second. By the time her third attempt went to voicemail, Amelie frowned.

—Fine,— she muttered to herself, opening FaceTime and trying again.

The ringing stopped, and for a brief second, she thought he’d answered. But the screen went dark, signaling he’d declined the call.

Her stomach twisted. This wasn’t like Lando. He rarely ignored her unless something was seriously bothering him. She sent a quick text instead.

Ames💛: Lan, please answer. I just want to make sure you’re okay.

Minutes passed, then an hour. Amelie sat on the couch, her phone in hand, refreshing her messages over and over again. She didn’t want to push, but her concern grew with each passing second.

Finally, her phone buzzed.

Lan🧡: Not in the mood.

Amelie sighed, biting her lip. She could practically feel the tension in his words, but she wasn’t going to let him shut her out.

Ames💛: I know you’re upset, but ignoring me won’t fix anything.

Lan🧡: Am I not allowed to be mad for one night? It’s not about you, okay?

Ames💛: I get that you’re mad, Lando, but shutting me out isn’t fair. I’m just trying to be here for you.

Lan🧡: I said it’s not about you. Just leave it.

Amelie’s chest tightened as she stared at the screen. The sharpness in his words stung more than she wanted to admit. She tapped out a response, her fingers trembling slightly.

Ames💛: I’m not leaving it because I care about you. But if you keep treating me like this every time something goes wrong, then maybe I shouldn’t bother.

For a long moment, there was no reply. The silence felt louder than the roar of the engines that had filled her ears earlier. Amelie tossed her phone onto the couch and ran her hands through her hair, trying to fight back tears.

The paddock was heavy with frustration as Lando made his way through the post-race interviews, his jaw tight and responses clipped. Every mention of the penalty only seemed to deepen the storm cloud hanging over him. His PR team gave him space, knowing it was best not to prod.

Carlos Sainz, leaning against the Ferrari motorhome nearby, had been watching Lando with a mix of concern and understanding. When he saw Lando walk past with his head down, Carlos decided to step in.

—Oye, Norris,— Carlos called out, his tone calm but firm. Lando stopped, glancing over with a glare that quickly softened when he saw Carlos approaching.

—Not in the mood, mate,— Lando muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Carlos ignored the dismissal, crossing his arms. —Yeah, I can see that. Want to talk about it?

Lando sighed heavily, his frustration spilling out. —What’s there to say? That penalty was absolute bullshit. I drove my ass off, and for what? P3 was mine, and they took it away.—

Carlos nodded, letting Lando vent. —I get it, amigo. It sucks. But I think there’s more to this than just the penalty.—

Lando hesitated, avoiding Carlos’s gaze.

—Amelie called me. A lot. I ignored her.— He ran a hand through his messy curls, his voice quieter now. —We had an argument over text. She’s upset, and I… I don’t know. I don’t want to deal with it right now.—

Carlos raised an eyebrow. —And you think ignoring her will make it better? Lando, you’re digging yourself into a hole.—

Lando looked down, kicking at the gravel. —I just… I didn’t want to take it out on her. She doesn’t deserve that.—

—No, she doesn’t,— Carlos agreed, his tone sharpening slightly. —But shutting her out isn’t the answer. If you keep this up, you’re going to lose her. Again.—

Those last words hit Lando like a punch to the gut. He looked up, guilt flashing across his face.

—You really think I’m screwing this up?— he asked quietly.

Carlos softened, placing a hand on Lando’s shoulder. —I think you’re frustrated and not thinking straight. Amelie’s not mad because of the penalty; she’s mad because you’re shutting her out. Fix it before it’s too late, mate.—

Lando nodded, swallowing hard. —You’re right. I’ll… I’ll call her.—

—Good. Now go. And maybe start with an apology,— Carlos added with a smirk.

Hours passed before Lando mustered the courage to pick up his phone. The frustration of the penalty had cooled, replaced by the nagging guilt of how he’d treated Amelie. Carlos’s words replayed in his head: “You’re going to lose her. Again.” That wasn’t a mistake he could afford to make twice.

He scrolled through their text thread, his chest tightening at her last message. She had every right to be upset, and he knew he needed to fix this.

With a deep breath, he tapped on her contact and hit the call button. It rang twice before she picked up, her voice clipped but laced with concern.

—What do you want, Lando?—

Her words stung, but he deserved them. —Amelie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored your calls or snapped at you. I was being a dick.—

—You think?— she shot back, her Latina fire evident in her tone. —Lando, I get that you were upset, but do you know how it felt for me to sit here, worried about you, just to get shut out?—

He winced. —I know, I know. I was wrong. I just didn’t want to say something stupid in the heat of the moment.—

—Well, congratulations, you did anyway,— she said, her voice softer but still firm. —Lando, I’m not some punching bag for you to take your frustrations out on. I’m your partner. I’m here to support you, not to be ignored.—

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. —You’re right. I messed up, and I hate that I made you feel that way. I promise I’ll do better. Please, Amelie, forgive me.—

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. He could almost hear her weighing her options, her stubbornness making her drag it out.

—You’re lucky I love you, Norris,— she said finally, a hint of a smile in her voice. —But you’re not off the hook that easily.—

Lando chuckled, relief flooding his system at her teasing tone. —I wouldn’t expect anything less.—

—Good,— she replied, her voice softening. —Because next time you pull something like this, you’re sleeping on the couch. Even if we’re in different countries.—

Lando couldn’t help but laugh, the sound lighter than it had been in hours.

—I’ll take the couch punishment. As long as you’re still talking to me, I’ll take anything.— He ran a hand through his hair again, feeling the weight of the conversation lift. The tension between them was starting to melt, replaced by a familiar warmth.

Amelie couldn’t help but laugh a little too, despite the remnants of anger still bubbling underneath. It felt good to hear his voice finally relaxed again, even if they had gotten there through a roundabout way.

—You’re really pushing your luck, Norris,— she teased, the smile audible in her tone. —But I’ll give you this one, since you actually did apologize.—

Lando’s breath was easier now, and he shifted the phone to his other ear, settling back against the hotel room wall. —I’m really sorry, Ames. You know I never want to make you feel like that. I’ll try to handle my frustration better next time.—

—Next time?— she asked, her voice still warm, but with an edge of playful disbelief. —You mean when you get a 5-second penalty again?—

He groaned, rubbing his eyes. —Don’t remind me. I swear, the FIA has it out for me.—

Amelie grinned, her mood lightening as she leaned back against the couch in her hotel room. —Maybe if you stop driving like a madman, they’ll stop penalizing you.—

Lando chuckled, though there was a hint of mischief in his voice. —If I weren’t a madman, I wouldn’t be me.—

She rolled her eyes, but the fondness in her tone couldn’t be mistaken. —True. Just... don’t go getting too cocky, okay? I’m already dealing with one in the family, I don’t need another one.—

Lando laughed, the tension between them dissolving with every passing second. —I can’t help it, I’m a Norris. We’ve got talent running in our blood.—

She raised an eyebrow even though he couldn’t see it. —So modest.

There was a comfortable silence between them, and for a moment, the distance of the hundreds of miles between Orlando and Austin felt smaller.

—So, Mexico next week, huh?— Lando said, changing the topic. —I’m looking forward to seeing you.—

Amelie’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of finally being in the same place again after weeks of being apart. —I can’t wait. It’s been too long. You better bring your A-game, because you’re racing in my backyard.—

—Oh, don’t worry, I’ll make sure to impress you. I’m just hoping I don’t get any more penalties for breathing too loudly next time,— he added with a laugh.

Amelie rolled her eyes again, smiling despite herself. —You’re impossible, you know that?—

—Yeah, but you love me anyway,— Lando replied, his voice softening.

—Don’t get too cocky now, Norris,— she teased again, but her heart was light.

She felt the warmth of his apology sink in deeper, her stubbornness easing just enough to let herself relax. She knew she could hold a grudge when needed, but she also knew when to forgive—especially when it came to Lando. He was a pain sometimes, but so was she. They both had their ways of dealing with stress, and sometimes that meant stepping back, taking a breather, and coming back stronger.

—Alright, alright. You’re forgiven. But only because I’m really excited to see you next week,— she finally said, her smile evident in her voice.

—Promise you’ll be there to cheer me on?— Lando asked, his tone earnest now.

—Of course, I’ll be there. It’s my home country, Lando. How could I miss it? You’d better make it worth my while, though.—

—Deal. See you soon, Ames. I’ll be counting down the days.—

Amelie couldn’t help the small flutter in her chest. —Me too.—

As they hung up, she sat there for a moment, a content smile on her lips. The argument felt like it had happened ages ago, and now, with Mexico on the horizon, everything seemed right again.

And yet, part of her knew—this wouldn’t be the last time they’d have moments like this. They were a work in progress, and maybe that was okay.